


Feathers and Frostbite

by Tilltheendwilliwrite



Series: Feathers Series [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Oral Sex, Smut, Swearing, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-23
Updated: 2018-11-23
Packaged: 2019-08-27 22:35:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16711318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tilltheendwilliwrite/pseuds/Tilltheendwilliwrite
Summary: A challenge fic based on an Anonymous Tumblr Ask: Challenge time! Are you brave to take it? A One Shot with everyone's favorite archer. Hawkeye getting down and dirty with a reader, fights, arrows flying and perhaps catching the reader just right so that they're stuck to a wall. Just how naughty can our favorite archer be.





	Feathers and Frostbite

**Author's Note:**

> The first one shot in a series of Clint Barton and Reader stories.

  


There was nothing you enjoyed more than the feeling of free falling through the air when you leapt from the quinjet after Steve, or Nat, or whomever you happened to be teamed up with. This, however, was not what you’d planned.

Falling at speed from the jet which had just blown up without a parachute was… not a very good idea. And now the ground was rushing up way too quickly for your liking.

“Guys, if anyone has a good idea,  _ now's the time _ !” you bellowed, arms out, trying to at the very least stabilize so you weren’t spinning through the air.

“Stop griping. You’ve got time,” Clint’s grumble came back to you.

“Clint?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m coming.”

You dared a glance back over your shoulder to see the streak which was Clint Barton barreling toward you like a bullet. “Ugh… whatcha doing, Clint?” you asked when you noticed him flip himself upright and draw on his bow.

“Saving you sorry ass!” he barked. “You get in the plane, you strap on the chute! How many times do I have to tell you these things?”

“Steve doesn’t wear one,” you muttered, tears streaking from your eyes with the wind.

“And Natasha is assisting _ my _ sorry ass,” Steve grumbled, the com crackling in your ear.

“Steve?” you called out. “Steve! Nat!”

“They got blown out the other direction, (Y/N). It’s just you and me. Hold still.”

“Hold still? Where the hell am I going to go?” you asked, but you tried not to slip around too much.

“Alright… sorry about this.”

“Sorry? About what- Ow! Son of a bitch, Barton!” you shrieked when the arrow slammed into your back. Even through your vest that had hurt like hell.

“I said I was sorry!” he bellowed. “And I’m just as sorry about this!”

The jerk when it came, his chute opening with a snap, yanked you up and slowed your fall all in one hard move. It wrenched your neck, however, causing you to scream in agony when the whiplash tore through your body.

The last thing you remembered before you blacked out, was Clint calling your name.

***

When you came to, it was dark, cold, and the ground was hard beneath you. “Clint?” you called quietly.

“Hey, look who’s awake.” He shifted behind you, and you realized the reason the backside of you wasn't cold, nor was your head on the ground, was because he was plastered to your spine, and your head was resting on his arm.

“What… what happened?” you asked, the scent of pine tree and moss filling your nose.

“You remember the mission?”

Frowning, you made to nod but groaned when everything from your ears to your shoulders protested. “Oh shit, my neck!”

“Yeah, happens when I catch you with a grappling arrow. I knew it would catch on your tac vest, but I hadn’t thought about the jerk when the chute caught.”

Sighing, you relaxed as best you could. “Better a sore neck than dead.”

“This is true.”

“Sorry I didn’t listen… now you’re stuck with me.”

He hummed as if annoyed with your nonsense and wrapped his arm tightly around your waist. “You know its fine. Besides, Nat never lets me snuggle.”

“I call bullshit!” you huffed. There was no need to even ask why there was no fire for warmth. The jet had gone down way too close to the Hydra base you’d infiltrated, and they could be looking for survivors. “Why don’t you sleep for a while? I’ll keep watch.”

“Hmm,” he hummed again, rubbing his cold nose against the back of your neck. “Been quiet since the sun went down a few hours ago. Wake me if you hear anything. Gun’s here,” he touched your upper thigh, “and here,” he took your hand out to the one right in front of you. “Bow’s above us.”

“Quiver?”

“Where it always is.”

Strapped to his back. “Sleep, Clint.”

Silence settled over your little thicket. Your eyes had adjusted enough to see Clint had managed to hide you in a hollow beneath dense pine branches. A sliver of moonlight glowed beyond them. Unable to turn your head, you assumed there was some sort of stationary object - rock, fallen tree trunk, something - at his back for him to have wedged up against.

A few minutes went by, enough to have you cataloguing the sounds of wildlife and the forest around you, noting the nip in the air which bespoke snow. You just hoped it held off until you could get out of here, meet up with the others, and find a ride home.

“Do you think Steve and Nat are doing it?”

Clint’s question was so far out of left field you jolted in shock. “Jeez, Barton! What the hell kind of question is that?”

“Well, it’s cold. Cap radiates heat like a furnace. Nat would have him outta that suit in a second if she thought it would make her warmer. She hates being cold.” Again his nose brushed the back of your neck, sending tingles down your spine, along with the warm wash of his breath on your skin.

“I highly doubt Steve and Nat are having sex. It would be incredibly bad if Hydra showed up in the middle of the action.”

“Considering Steve’s deprived? Bet he’d hand them all their ass in no time flat, just throw the shield at them all and never break rhythm.”

You snickered, unable to contain the laughter, head full of the mental image. “That’s terrible.”

“But funny.”

“But funny,” you agreed.

The snap of a branch nearby ended your already hushed conversation when Clint instantly went on alert. “Need my arm back,” he whispered against your nape.

The going was slow, both because he had no desire to hurt you, and he didn’t want to make a sound. Eventually, he worked himself free to the point where he could cradle your skull, keeping it stable and your muscles relaxed.

This time when he whispered against you, it was at your ear, and you refused to acknowledge the shivers his touch sent down your spine a second time.

“When I shift, roll to your back.”

He moved, slow and steady, working his way over you until he was straddling your body, chests nearly pressed together and lips only inches apart.

How bad was it you were totally turned on right now?

He gently settled your head to the earth and reached for his bow. The crunch of feet over pine needles froze him in place.

“Mark, anything?”

“Nah, you?”

“Nothing.”

“You think they're all dead?”

The first man snorted his thoughts on that. “They are the fucking Avengers. I highly doubt it.”

“You want to make camp, or head back?”

Clint slowly lowered down until his entire body was plastered to yours, unable to keep himself stretched out as he had been. “Sorry,” he breathed in your ear.”

“Least I’m warm,” you breathed back, causing a ripple of amusement to shake his chest though he made no sound.

“If we camp here, there's less chance of Maximo shooting one of us for them getting in in the first place.”

“Good point,” Mark chuckled. “You get the fire going.”

Well,  _ shit _ . Now what? Clint was a little heavy, but he was also lovely and warm. Sure your back was cold, but it was kind of soothing to the soreness from your whiplash.

“You alright?” you whispered, his cheek pressed to yours.

“Just fine, darlin',” he breathed. “May have to stay like this till they settle in.”

“I’m good.” 

And you were. This was the closest you'd been to the archer, kind of… ever. You’d always had a thing for his quick wit and sexy bedroom eyes. He may give you shit when you did something stupid, but he also was one of the first ones to congratulate you when you did well. Clint was a good guy, a great guy, a guy you could easily fall for, but there was nothing there but friendship on his part.

The light outside your little hidey hole brightened, causing Clint to tuck his face further into your throat. Thankfully the branches were dense, but now you could really see what you were up against. 

Two Hydra operatives were gathering wood a few feet away. One had already started a fire you longed to get closer to. They chatted quietly about everything from women to sports to how much they hated their jobs, driving you insane with their drabble.

Would they never shut up?

Then came the scent of food, nearly making your stomach growl. When was the last time you’d eaten? Sometime yesterday morning?

“Shhhh,” Clint hushed you.

“Like I can help it?” you whispered.

“Think of something else.”

“Like what?”

“Like this,” he hissed before lifting his head to take your mouth in a soft, gentle kiss.

Your mouth fell open when he finished. “What just happened?”

“You needed a distraction.”

“Was that all it was?” you asked, trying not to show the hurt that caused you.

“Are we really going to have this conversation,  _ now? _ ”

“Got somewhere better to be?”

He looked down on you with his piercing eyes, the Hawkeyes he was named after. Slowly, his muscles softened until he was nose to nose with you again. “Nowhere but here.”

His lips again found yours. Left hot, slow kisses on your lips. Open mouth kisses which saw his tongue sliding over yours, dipping into your mouth and caressing your teeth. The make-out session went no further than kisses stuck as you were, but they were heady, deep and drugging.

A pinging sound brought you back to reality and your precarious position.

“Ah fuck,” came from the second man. “Weather warning. The snow is early. They’re calling us all back.”

“No worries,” rumbled Mark, climbing to his feet. “There is a cabin two miles east of here. We can say we got lost looking for the plane. No one else was coming this way. It should be empty.”

He’d just begun to kick dirt over their small fire when Clint was up making his move. The arrows sang through the air, the shots taking down both soldiers easily with little sound but the thump of bodies.

“What yah doing, Clint?” you asked, peering up at him through the darkness when the last flicker of flames went out.

“When the guys who live here are concerned about the weather, you best make damn sure you listen. We need to try for that cabin.” Reaching for his ear, he tapped the com. “Steve? Nat? Don’t know if you're getting this, but if you are, the weather's turning. Find shelter. Do it now.”

Bracing yourself, you rolled to your side and pushed slowly upright, groaning when the sharp pain shot through your neck.

“You gonna live?” he asked, going to retrieve his arrows.

Resting on your hands and knees, you swallowed down the need to vomit. “Think… think I may have a concussion.”

“Shit,” he hissed, returning to your side. A small light flashed on, shining directly in your eyes. “Double shit. Nausea?”

“Yeah.” You swallowed again to keep what little was in your stomach down there.

“Okay, okay. Stay here.” He was up and moving again before you could bite out a witty retort.

The sounds of grunting and shoving came through the night. “What you doing, Leg… Legolas?” you asked.

He was back in seconds, slinging a heavier coat around your body. “We needed to get moving. Snows coming in, I can feel it and smell it. If that cabin is two miles east, we ain’t gonna make it before the weather sets in. You’ll freeze before we get there without it.”

Ignoring the fact the jacket had once belonged to a dead man and likely had blood on it somewhere, you worked your arms through the sleeves. Every movement was agony. Every breath causing fire to streak the muscles of your throat. “Fuck… I never knew you used all these muscles just to breathe!”

“You whining, (Y/N)?” Clint teased.

“Stating a fact, asshat!” you snapped.

He only chuckled before sobering. “We need to move.”

“Kay,” you murmured, knowing without a doubt getting to your feet would suck serious ass. Going slow, you crawled out of the little hollow, and rested on your hands and knees. “Clint?”

“Yeah?”

“Just do it.”

Crouching down, his hands closed in the front of your coat. “I tried to make sure nothing was broken. You snapped back pretty hard, but I can’t be certain…” he trailed off.

Wrapping your fingers around his wrists, you swallowed thickly. “We stay, we’re dead. Just get me to my feet. I hurt, but nothing is numb or tingling. I’ll worry about the rest later.”

“(Y/N)...” he took a deep breath. “I’m sorry.”

One hard draw of strong arms saw you to your feet where you wobbled, biting nearly through your cheek to keep from screaming. With the darkness of the night around you, and the moon’s light fading beneath the cloud cover, you couldn’t tell if the blackness edging your vision was you trying to faint, or just the night closing in.

“Don’t pass out on me!” he barked harshly.

You sucked in lungful’s of air while resting on his chest. “I won’t, I won’t. Just give me a sec.” When the nausea and dizziness finally tapered off, you took a cautious step back. “Good.”

“You sure?” His hands did up the zipper on your coat.

“I’ll live.” At least till you got somewhere you could lie down again. “Let’s go.”

The screen from the dead soldier’s com-unit lit up in Clint’s hand. “We can keep tabs on the base with this.”

“You know where we’re going?” There were no stars to guide your way, and the wind was already whipping up.

“We landed south of the base. They came from the northwest. We go that way.” He pointed with his chin, his arm sliding around your waist. “C’mon. Got to cover some ground.”

The going was slow, the dizziness and nausea sneaking up on you every so often causing you to pant and shake against Clint. Sweat had begun to run down your spine when the first cold, wet flakes fell on your face.

“How far?” you asked, leaning heavily against him.

“Another mile, at least,” he murmured into your hair, eyes watchful. “We got a bigger problem right now.”

“What’s that?” Freezing, aching, and ready to drop, you couldn’t even begin to imagine what could possibly be worse.

“Something’s hunting us.”

_ Well… shit.  _ “You know what?”

“Not yet.” But the way he stiffened, urging you onward, had you wondering if he was lying.

“Clint…”

“Don’t talk, just walk. If we keep going, maybe it will leave us be.”

The sudden increase in your adrenaline had you standing a little straighter, moving a little quicker. Snow began to fall with a heavier hand, the flakes coming faster.

The howl of the wind was answered by another howl, this one much closer and far deadlier.

“Wolves.”

“Shit!” Shoving you at the closest tree, a large, fat pine with low branches, Clint slapped you in the ass. “UP! Climb now!”

Low, deadly growling coming from all around you had you following the urging without complaining about the swat to the behind. The pain faded into the background as you went up the tree fast, Clint hard on your heels.

Heels which barely evaded the snapping jaws of one of the biggest wolves you’d ever seen.

“Holy… shit.” You huddled against the trunk and watched the pack mill around, barking, leaping, and snapping up at you. “Big doggies.”

Clint chuckled softly, settling into the tree a branch below you. “Wonder if they play fetch?”

“Got a juicy bone you can throw them?”

He shook his head, teeth flashing when he grinned. “Left the leg of lamb in my other quiver.”

A particularly nasty gust of wind blew through the tree and made you shiver. “How the hell did it get so cold so fast?”

“Welcome to Russia!” he quipped, patting your knee.

“Shut up you big dork.” Rolling your eyes, you made to shove him with your foot only to have the bough beneath you break. For a second time in less than twenty-four-hours, you were plummeting toward the earth.

Snapping his hand out, Clint grabbed you by the jacket, and dragged you toward him and into his lap. “Jesus! Check the branch before you plant your ass on it next time!”

“Well excuse me,  _ Hawkeye _ ! Some of us don’t  _ nest _ as part of our survival training!” Caught against his chest, fear making both of your words harsher than necessary, you glared at each other.

“Fuck it,” he muttered before sealing his mouth to yours.

His lips were cold, but you didn’t care. For the second time that night he was kissing you. Kissing you like it was all that mattered in the world. Like the milling wolves, the possibility of Hydra capture, and the concussion making your head throb didn’t matter.

“We need to get outta this tree,” he mumbled against your lips, hands still gripping your jacket.

“Why? Got places to be, Barton?”

“Got a broken branch poking my ass.”

You laughed softly and pulled away.

“Don’t laugh at my pain!” he whined.

“Guess we’d best do something about them.” You pointed to where the wolves had gathered, some still circling the tree, others almost lounging, seeming to be waiting for you to come down. “I could just… shoot at them. Maybe it will scare them off?”

“And give away our location.”

“You really think anyone is out here but us?”

He shrugged, fingers flashing on his bow. The sound of the quiver changing the arrowhead was barely discernable beneath the wind. “Grab that will yah?”

Pulling the arrow free, you quelled the flinch of pain and waited.

He plucked a couple of large pine cones from the branches and tossed them one after the other out into an open spot beyond the tree.

“Now whatcha doing?”

“Getting... their…  _ attention _ ,” he said, chucking the last one and snickering when the pack leapt at it, snapping and snuffling before looking up at him as if to ask  _ really _ ?

“Arrow.”

You handed it over.

He grinned smugly at you, his teeth flashing about all you could really see. “Scoot in close, (Y/N). Gonna have to do this around you.”

“Uh huh,” you muttered, but curled up against him, trying to make yourself smaller.

He drew and fired swiftly, the arrow’s fletching brushing along your check. Singing through the air, it plowed into the ground in the center of the pack, where the gas capsule exploded, and even though they leapt into the air, they only made a few steps before each wolf collapsed to the ground.

“Nice shooting, Robin!”

“Stop it. You sound like Tony.”

That was kind of the point, but you didn’t say so. Giving the gas a few seconds to clear, you shifted out of Clint's lap and began to make your way down the tree. When you reached the bottom, you stumbled a step closer to the nearest fallen body, amazed again by the size of the wolf. “Damn they’re big.”

“Tundra wolves. They’re native to the region, largest of the grey wolves. Poachers like their pelts.”

“I can see why.” Reaching down, you lightly ran your fingers through the wolf’s long guard hair. “How do you know they’re Tundra wolves?”

“Hey, I read!” he scoffed, mimicking your touch of the wolf’s pelt. “And I found the cabin.”

A cold gust of snow went right down your spine. “Oh thank, god!”

“Name’s Clint,” he grumbled. “Clint. Say it with me. Clllliiint.”

“Lead the way, Clllllint.”

You were sure he rolled his eyes at you, but couldn’t really tell. He did grab your hand though, tugging you the direction you needed to go. Slogging through the ankle-deep snow, you followed Clint’s tracks, the blizzard coming in with a vengeance and whiting out the area.

The biting cold was beginning to seep through your suit. The fabric might be great for fighting in, running in, and sneaking around in, but it did shit all for keeping out the cold. Wind seared your exposed skin, and your teeth chattered together. You weren’t quite sure how Clint was managing not to fall on his face when every step you took was agony.

“How… how… far?” you gasped, shaking and stumbling.

“Almost there. Stay with me, (Y/N).” His arm tightened around your waist, drawing you in tighter.

“How… how are you… not f-f-freezing?”

“Run hot, always have. Why do you think I go sleeveless?”

“Show… show off… s-s-sexy… m-m-musclesss?”

He chuckled. “You think I have sexy muscles?”

“Sh-shut… up.”

“You said it,” he grumbled. “Look.”

Glancing up, you were about to  _ ask at what _ when the dark shape suddenly began to form. “Yes,” you hissed as your knees gave out.

“Don’t quit on me now!” Clint barked, his breath ragged.

Digging for your last reserves, you forced your legs to work and plowed shoulder first into the wall beside the door. A small moan of pain was all you could give when the impact sent agony shooting through your back and neck.

“Stay with me,” Clint wheezed, touching your face with his freezing cold hands before fumbling with the door.

It felt like hours you waited, somewhat sheltered from the wind before the door swung open. Whether it had already been open or he’d busted it down you weren’t sure, but you both fell inside, and Clint kicked the door shut.

The stillness was deafening.

You’d landed rather heavily on your side, panting and shaking, unable to do anything but fight to stay awake.

“Don’t go to sleep on me, sweetheart,” he begged, the fear suddenly present in his voice when the penlight he’d used earlier clicked on. “Shit. Your lips are blue.” Scooping you up, he took you to the bed situated against the wall and set you gently on it. “Stay awake, (Y/N). Can you do that for me? Stay awake?”

Looking up at him, you gave a slight nod, your muscles cramping you were shivering so hard.

Again the icy cold hand touched your cheek. “Need a fire,” Clint said, teeth chattering when he stomped his way toward the woodstove in the corner.

You focused as best you could on him, curling tight into a ball to conserve what heat you had left. Watching him rush from the pack you hadn’t even noticed he’d taken from the dead soldiers to the stove and finally to his quiver where he again changed arrowheads, was just enough action to keep you awake. When he thrust the arrow into the stove, setting off sparks and nearly blowing it up, you gave a tired smile. “D-d-don’t… kill ussss.”

“Keep talkin'. You need to stay awake.” Crouching, he blew gently on the fire before adding more wood.

“You’re… c-cute… bosssssy.”

He threw a smirk your way. “So you think I’m cute  _ and _ I have sexy muscle?”

“N-n-n-no.”

“What?” he gasped, putting two more pieces of wood in the stove before swinging the cast iron door nearly closed. “You said so earlier. No backsies.”

He made his way toward you, shedding gear, shedding clothing, causing you to frown. “What… doing?”

“Going to take time to warm this place up. It’s not huge, but it's cold in here. We, however, don’t have the time to wait. We need to get you warmer right now, and the best source of heat is…?”

_ Body heat. _

By firelight you watched him strip off layer after layer until he stood before you in a pair of Saxx underwear which, while as brightly coloured as a psychedelic rainbow, did an excellent job of highlighting what the good Lord had blessed him with. If you hadn’t been so damn cold, you might have purred and stretched like a wanton feline.

When he started in on your clothes, coat joining his on the floor, vest following, you didn't even give a token protest.

By the time the zipper was coming down on your catsuit, you could hardly keep your eyes open. “F-f-f-f…”

“Uck?” he teased, pulling your suit apart and down your arms. “Ooh! Maroon is my favourite colour.”

“P-p-perv.”

“And here I thought I was saving your life,” he quipped.

“J-jerk,” you mumbled when he tugged off your wet boots, tossing them near his by the stove.

“Sweet talker,” he smirked at you.

“You… j-just w-w-want in… m-my pantsss.”

His smirk became a wide grin when said pants skimmed off your legs, turning them inside out. “Now I can say I got you out of them.”

“Asssshole.”

He chuckled as he scooped you up, dragged back the musty smelling blankets, and put you back down. His incredibly cold hands made you squeal. “Least I know you're still with me.” Covering you quickly, he grabbed up all the clothes and dumped them haphazardly by the fire. He gave you a wink as he dashed back to his bow and quiver, returned to the bed with both, propped them against the headboard, tucked your gun beneath the pillow and quickly climbed over you to take the side by the wall, becoming the big spoon again once he was beneath the blankets.

“H-how… is thisss… b-b-better?” you asked. Every inch of his skin felt like ice against yours.

“Give it a second,” he grumbled, rubbing his hands up and down your arms vigorously.

“Y-y-you’re… so… c-c-cold. F-f-f-frostbite?”

The tip of his nose brushed up and down your nape. “If we'd been out there much longer, yeah. I'm good though.”

Relaxing a little, still shivering against him, you were relieved to know he would be alright. True to his word, the heat from his body slowly began to seep into yours, and the shivers eventually subsided from continuous to sporadic.

“Better?” he asked softly.

“Yeah.” Even the air in the cabin wasn't nipping at the end of your nose anymore.

“Good.” Both of his hands landed on your bare belly.

“Jesus!” you barked at the two blocks of ice.

“What?” he whined. “They're cold, and I need them. Not like I haven't had your blizzard blasted butt on my balls for the last thirty.”

You couldn't help but laugh. “So you have blizzard blasted butt balls?”

“Say that five times fast.”

You tried, failing miserably, setting the two of you laughing.

“You could at least stick those hands somewhere they'd do some good.”

“Like where?” he asked.

“My neck. Still hurts.”

His hand lifted, gliding up your ribs and over your arm, leaving tingles in its wake, before landing gently on your neck. “Here?”

“Mmm,” you hummed. It wasn't the most comfortable thing when Clint slowly started to work his fingers over tense and painful muscle, but the combination of cold hands and gentle manipulation was beginning to take its toll, and you sighed, moaning quietly.

“You know,” he murmured, lips tracing your shoulder with his words, “this would be easier with a change of position.”

“Yeah?” you smirked. “What position?”

Carefully, he rolled you to your back and shifted to straddle your hips. The blankets fell around him, exposing you to the cooler air, making you gasp when it sent gooseflesh spreading across your skin. Cold fingers were back, slowly rubbing, stretching, soothing the knots and strains of your muscles.

“Clint?” you moaned softly.

“Yeah, (Y/N)?”

You looked up at him sitting above you in the firelight, sandy blond hair sticking up all directions, the green of his eyes dark and intense. The arms you admired, so strong and defined, flexed as did the muscle of his chest and abdomen. Beneath your hands, the coarse hair of his thighs tickled your palms.

“Why did you kiss me in the thicket?”

The gentle massage stopped. Cool fingers came up to cup your cheeks. “Figured if we were gonna die, I wanted to know what it felt like first.”

“You've thought about kissing me before?”

He nodded.

“Why didn't you… say something?” He was usually saying enough for three people. Cracking jokes and smart remarks, but you'd never had an inkling he'd felt that way about you.

“I kind of figured… I'd be competing against super soldiers and gods. Didn't think you be interested in this _old_ _man_.”

“Oh please! The old man is Tony. You're far too hot to be old in any sense, and besides, I've always admired you because you're not enhanced.”

He blinked down at you, surprise clear to see. “Think your concussion is acting up. You're talking crazy.”

Rolling your eyes, you tugged him back down beside you, pulled the blankets up and turned to face him. “I appreciate the fact you work harder than everyone else to keep up. You and Nat both do some incredible things fighting alongside all these enhanced people. I'm not saying it's easy for them, just that the skill you show in the field not being enhanced?” You bit your lip, looking away from those intense eyes. “I think you're kind of… amazing.”

His hand caught your hip and dragged you in close, sending your gaze shooting back to his. “So you wouldn't rather be here with Steve or Bucky or-”

You kissed him for the third time to shut him up. “Just you.”

“You know another great way to share body heat?”

“Mmm, if you're thinking what I think you are, I won't have to ask if you're  _ happy _ to see me. Nice shorts by the way.”

Laughing he rolled you to your back. “I did tell you maroon was my favourite colour, right?”

Cold fingers closed over your breast making you shiver and moan. “Do your hands  _ ever _ warm up?”

“Give me time,” he murmured, tucking his face into the hollow between your neck and shoulder.

The slight scratch of his five o’clock shadow over your tender skin had you turning your head, giving him better access to the quickly marching pulse in your throat. “Clint,” you sighed when he sucked on it, leaving wet, open-mouth kisses behind.

The coolness of his fingers and the roughness of his palms over your flesh set your heart racing. They stroked down your ribs, squeezed at your hip, travelled back up to run his thumb over the rapidly peaking nipple pushing against the black lace and maroon satin of your bra, one you’d picked out because it reminded you of Clint’s suit.

His mouth moved down to the valley between your breasts, tongue slicking over the swell and down to trace the satin edge. “Satin and lace,” he said softly, plucking at the bow between the cups with his teeth. “You always wear satin and lace?”

Panting softly, skin flushed, you sank your fingers into his short-cropped, wild hair. “Guess you’ll have to keep me around and find out for yourself once we get home.”

A grin swamped his face. “Sneak into your room in the middle of the night?”

“No sneaking. Just follow me there at the end of the day.”

The smile shifted, softened into something close to adoration. “Yeah? You’ll have this old man?”

Giving his hair a tug, a rather firm one making him wince, you frowned at him. “You’re not old.”

“I’m a little old,” he mumbled, dropping his head to kiss the spot directly over your heart, “but maybe you can keep me young?”

“I can certainly try,” you chuckled. Bringing your other hand up, you lightly caressed his cheek. “Thank you… for saving my life.”

His face turned into your hand, and he pressed a kiss to your palm. “Couldn’t let you die without getting that kiss.”

“Among other things.”

“Well, I did get you outta your pants far quicker than I thought I would,” he teased, dropping his head to nip at the satin cup.

“Freak.” You rolled your eyes.

“You’d be surprised.”

The wicked gleam in his green eyes had your brow arching. “What?”

Chuckling softly, he reached for his bow. “Arms above your head.”

“Why?”

“Do you trust me?”

“Sometimes,” you said cautiously making him pout.

“Trust me now. You’ll like this. Promise.”

You eyed him suspiciously but slowly raised your arms above your head and laid them over the bow, feeling the string give gently against your wrists. The muscles in his arm flexed, and the bow snapped closed around your wrists, effectively handcuffing you, causing you to jump and yelp softly, “Holy shit!”

“Who knew, right?”

The grin was so vast, so wicked, you had to laugh. “Now let me out.”

“Oh, I don’t think so, darlin'. You’re gonna stay right there. After all, you’re the one who called me a freak. Don’t you want to know how freaky I can get?”

Desire thumped in your belly, fluttered in your core, and raced to flush your face. “Maybe. You don’t have any  _ weird _ kink I need to know about, do you?”

“Like what?” he asked, reaching past your head again.

“Like… you’ll want me to call you  _ daddy _ ?”

He snorted, shaking his head. “Nope.”

“Well, I already discovered your bondage kink. What else you got?”

He brought his hand back and caressed your cheek with the soft fletching of the arrow he held. It was only the shaft, lacking a head, but the feathers on the end felt decadent. Sensual sliding down your skin.

Every touch made you shiver, arch and whimper.

Reaching beneath you, he undid the clasp on your bra with one hand, lifted the cups up and dragged the straps up your arms where it all hooked on his bow. “Damn,” he breathed staring down at you.

“See something you like?”

He nodded, evidently speechless. Light touches, soft and reverent, were placed on your body, gentle hands and skimming feathers. His eyes were intense, watchful, hawk eyes mapping and cataloguing every response.

When the blankets fell back a second time, you didn’t mind for the chill in the room had been chased away by the heat from the stove. The crackling sound of the fire, the flickering glow of the flames, and the scent of burning logs all blended together to mix with your cries when his lips found your breast and when tongue and teeth played with beaded flesh.

The sleek feathers skimmed down your stomach, followed by tracing lips and flexing fingers. Arching up, you moaned when the tip of the fletching passed over your core, dragging over your bundle of nerves through the satin of your underwear.

“Like that?” He did it again.

Crying out, you let your knees fall further apart. Your underwear disappeared down your legs, and the feathers returned, skimming over your lips, growing wet with your slick. “Fuck, Clint!” you shuddered. The tight coil in your belly grew with each small flick, causing sweat to glisten on your skin and your body flushed.

The arrow clattered to the floor. Hands gripped your thighs. Feathers were replaced with a hot tongue delving deep. Sucking and licking, he moaned against you.

You wanted nothing more than to sink your hands into his hair, hold his face against you, and flood his mouth, but you remained immobile, the bow still locked around your wrist. A mantra of pleading, begging words fell from your lips as you sought the release his tongue was taking you toward. Everything was so tight, so close, just out of reach, it wasn’t until you looked down your body, dotted in red marks of his possession, and latched onto his eyes that you finally came apart.

Moaning out his name, your thighs clamped around Clint's ears while you shook from the force of the orgasm sending heat and lightning through your veins. “Holy… hell…” you panted, trying to form words and rational thoughts when your brain had melted.

Kissing his way back up your body, he stretched out at your side. “That good?”

The smug on him was almost endearing, would have been more so if you hadn't been distracted by the thick bulge which rested against your hip. “That great,” you whispered. “Let me out of this.”

Outside the wind whistled, screaming around the walls of the cabin and shaking the one window, but inside, toasty warm, Clint reached up, pressed a few buttons, and had the bow again snapping open.

Aware your neck and back were still not in the best of shape, you brought your hands to his chest, slipped one behind his neck, and the other down slowly to slide over the fabric of his shorts. “That looks uncomfortable.”

He groaned, his forehead coming down on yours. “Oh, it is.”

“Maybe you should stop restraining it?” Shoving at the waistband, you helped work his shorts down, allowing his heavy cock to spring free and smack you in the thigh. You wrapped your fingers around him and peered up into lust blown eyes. “You’ve been hiding this? Shit, you’d give the super soldiers a run for their money,” you teased, giving him a few firm strokes.

His brow arched questioningly. “And you’re intimately acquainted with the manly bits of the super soldiers…  _ why _ ?”

“No, no! Just… speculating. They’re just… big all over so… you know, the girls talk.” Blushing as red as Wanda’s hair, you continued to run your fingers over him, amazed at his girth, hoping if you did it enough times he’d get distracted.

It seemed to be working, especially when you ran your thumb over his tip, then down to brush the sensitive skin beneath the ridge, making him moan.

“That feels…” He couldn't seem to finish. Instead, his hand closed on your breast, thumb and finger rolling your nipple.

“Oh,” you sighed, arching into his hand only to fall back with a whimper when pain ran down your spine.

“Babe, don’t hurt yourself,” he murmured, kissing you gently.

Tasting yourself on his lips, you nipped at his mouth. “Feels so good… and then I move wrong...”

“Guess that means you’d best let me do the work,” he whispered, hot and sultry.

The clench his words caused in your core muscles was exquisite.

Shifting over, he settled between your spread thighs, your hand still on him, guiding him, but when you tried to encourage him forward, he tugged your fingers away. “No, no. You just get to enjoy. You can make it up to me when you feel better.”

“Promise?” you quipped, plans and ideas already forming in your head with how you could  _ make it up _ to the archer.

“After the way your eyes just lit up? Hell, yeah,” he chuckled, the weight of him settled gently on you when he lowered his body down. His cock rubbed slowly back and forth over your wet core, making you shiver and moan, so sensitive already. The press of his chest, lightly dusted with hair, brushed over peaked nipples. A hand cupped the back of your neck, while the other stroked down, caught your knee, and brought it to his waist. “You tell me if I hurt you.”

Bringing your hands to his ribs, you slipped them up his body, caressed over the flexing muscle of his back, took a grip on his shoulders and dug your nails in gently. “I will.”

Then, with a shift and thrust, he was buried to the hilt, stretching your walls, making you gasp, see stars, feel unbelievable pleasure with only his entry. Whimpering, you clutched at him while your body hummed.

“Okay?” he whispered, lips moving tenderly over yours.

“Oh god.”

“There you go, forgetting my name again,” he teased, squeezing your thigh.

“Barton, shut up and kiss me.”

“Yes, ma'am,” he chuckled, sinking into your mouth as he started to move, slow and steady. Withdraw and return.

He nipped and sipped at your lips. Played with your tongue. Stroked and twisted his, and sucked on yours when you fought your way into his mouth.

You’d never been kissed like that before. Like it was all he could think about. All he seemed able to focus on was teasing and chasing your tongue, but the slow and steady thrust of his hips, the gentle way he was moving over you, had the pool of pleasure swelling in your belly.

A small tilt of his hips, saw him stroking over your sweet spot, his aim as perfect in this as it was in his archery. Sweat trickled down his spine, his panting breath and swiftly beating heart a match for yours.

Trailing your fingers down his back, he moaned against you, face falling to bury against your throat.

You gasped when he thrust a little harder, sending the pool within you spiralling.

“So amazing,” he said against your ear. “So fucking good.”

“Clint,” you whimpered, scratching at his back. “Harder.”

“You sure?”

“Fuck, yes!” You threw your other leg up over his hip, setting your heels into his low back.

He hummed in clear appreciation and increased the speed and strength of his thrust. “That better?”

You couldn’t even speak with how much better it was. Giving a wanton moan, you again dragged your nails down his back. The firelight cast him in shadows, made his hair glow like a halo; his eyes glinting with stars.

The burn in your belly spread to your thighs, the tight fist around your core kept growing. Every plunge of his hard cock through your walls was ecstasy so grand, you couldn’t help but scream his name when the wave of pleasure peaked, crashed, slammed through your body and set you seeing fireworks.

“Fuck me,” he moaned, riding the wave of your climax.

Pulling back at the last moment, Clint came with a sexy growl into his hand while you watched him stroke himself through the waves of his own orgasm. It was hot as hell and sent a secondary clench to your core muscles.

Sitting back on his heels, he smiled down at you. “Damn… you’re glowing.”

You slowly shook your head, muscles still pulling unhappily. “It’s the firelight.”

“Nah, it’s you. You’re gorgeous like that. Hair a mess and sexually satisfied.” Getting from the bed, he went to clean up, returning a few moments later with a protein bar and a mostly frozen bottle of water. He helped you to sit and settled beside you, perfectly comfortable in his nudity even as you dragged a blanket around yourself. “Drink. Eat. You need it.”

“Is there two of those?” You motioned toward the bar even as your belly growled.

A second one appeared from behind the first like he was spreading open a deck of cards. “Nice of them boys to provide us with the essentials.”

You nudged his shoulder and sipped from the bottle. “I’m glad it's you.”

“Hm?” he hummed, chomping on the bar.

“That came after me. I’m glad it was you that got stuck with the dumb girl with no parachute.”

He leaned over and kissed your cheek. “You gonna listen to me from now on?”

“When it’s necessary,” you snickered softly.

“Which is  _ always _ ,” he quipped.

Together, you ate your makeshift meal, he added more wood to the stove, and crawled back into bed, snuggling down in the warm nest together.

When his arms wrapped around you, a hand rested on your belly, another cupped your breast, and you smiled for they’d finally warmed up. Again his nose brushed up the back of your neck, before tucking into your hair.

“How are you feeling?” he asked quietly.

“Better. Dinner stayed down.”

“Headache?”

“Less.”

“Good. Still gonna have to wake you up throughout the night.”

“Is there much night left?”

He shifted until he could see his watch. “Coming up on midnight.”

“Really?” You could have sworn it was later.

“Hm,” he nodded. “Get some sleep. I’ll wake you in a bit.”

You smiled, settling back into his chest. “And just  _ how _ will you wake me?”

His hand squeezed your breast. “I’m sure I can think of something.” Clint snickered softly before pressing a kiss to your nape. “You know how I was wondering if Nat and Cap were getting it on?”

“Yeah?”

“Wonder if they wondered the same about us?”

“Knowing Nat? You could likely put money on it.”

“That’s true. She’s known I had a thing for you for a while.”

“She’s too good a spy, cause she knew about my feelings for you, too.”

“Feelings, huh?” he rumbled against your spine. “Good thing I have a few feelings of my own then.”

Your heart leapt and settled. With a content sigh, you drifted into sleep, feeling safe and warm in the arms of your Avenger.

***

The next morning, you were slogging through knee-deep snow, heading for the secondary Evac point, a backup plan should something go wrong, when the sun peaked above the mountains, glowing an orange-red.

Walking behind Clint, you kept your eyes open, watching for Hydra, wolves, and lost Avengers. He stopped, crouched, and you dropped with him, bringing up your guns.

“Nat?” he called quietly.

“Barton,” she quipped, stepping from the trees, Steve striding out beside her.

“You two alright?”

Getting to your feet, you only winced a little before Clint had you by the arm. “Good as can be expected,” you assured the Captain, though you were careful not to nod.

“She’s got whiplash and a concussion,” Clint immediately outed you.

“And I’m dealing with it,” you grumbled, glaring at Clint.

Nat’s eyes were sharp, far too knowing, and rather gleeful. “You seem to have made it through the storm rather well. Nice coats.”

“Found a cabin. You?” you asked, looking from Natasha to Steve, eyes widening at the pink flush on the Captain’s cheeks.

“We managed to find a nice, cozy cave.” She smiled, wicked and smug, and as wide as a Cheshire cat.

“Let’s get moving,” Steve said, turning away quickly. “(Y/N), let me know if you need a break.” He was striding away before you could answe.

Clint grinned broadly and jogged to catch up with Steve.

You smirked at Nat. “Cozy, hm?”

“ _ Super _ cozy.” Her eyes danced and sparkled with laughter. “And how was the cabin?”

Blushing, you smiled sideways at her. “It was nice. So hot. There were  _ feathers _ .”

She leaned closer, glee written all over her face. “About damn time.”

“And all it took was body heat and avoiding frostbite.”

“And feathers,” she murmured, still grinning. “When we get home, I want details.”

Laughing softly, you smirked at the two retreating men. “Oh, honey. Me too.”

**_-The End-_ **

  
  



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